Royal Princes
by alluras-castle
Summary: An AU in which Tygra and Bengali grow up together with the Royal family of Thundera. Other chapters removed because I quite like it as just the two one-shots Leona and Remembrances
1. Leona

(For those of you unaware, I heard a rumor they were going to be brothers, and if you think about it, they would be twins or half, and I'm going with twins. This is a self-indulgent AU of them both growing up as members of the Royal family.)

* * *

Leona had wanted a cub for years, so badly it was painful. Claudus always reassured her, telling her one could not force nature and the gods would bless them when they were ready. He always delivered his words so gently that she always wanted to and allowed herself to believe him, despite knowing otherwise. The truth of the matter was much more heartbreaking.

Peering into the basket beside her mate, she couldn't help but feel overjoyed. To her, it was as if the gods had blessed them with not one, but two sons.

The crowd was hushed, but curious, as Claudus reached into the basket, consequently earning himself two purrs from the sleeping bundles, and pulled a tucked card out. She glanced at it and smiled even more broadly.

Names.

"Just their names," Claudus announced, his voice light and curious. "Nothing more." Then he paused and looked up, "Where did you come from, little tigers?"

_Tygra,_ she looked at the orange-furred cub, swathed in a green blanket, _and Bengali._ Her gaze transferred to his pale brother, who seemed to have a natural blue 'mask' that curved down from the bridge of his nose to his cheekbones, before travelling to his ears. He was swathed in a dark blue blanket.

Warmth, akin to the feeling she felt with her sister's children, seeped through her body. And then she reached into the basket, picking Tygra up and holding him to Claudus, before picking his brother up. "It seems the gods have delivered us sons." The brothers stirred in their sleep. Claudus looked down at Tygra, perplexed.

"Tigers?" he asked, leaning closer.

She looked deeply at the sleeping bundle in her arms, and then at Tygra in Claudus' arms. "Not just tigers, Claudus. Princes."

They both purred.

* * *

They were playful and rambunctious. Within weeks, the two were crawling—and falling—all around the nursery that Leona had feared would never be used.

With some minor renovations, it had been outfitted for the fraternal twin princes. As it was, she spent most of her time in their with her happy and handsome little princes, and often slept on the bed that had also been brought in—specifically for her to use if she felt the need to. She would play with them both, for one was rarely awake or even away from the other—a lovely fact she had discovered very soon after a second cradle had been brought to the nursery, and the twins had been found sleeping on the floor the very next morning.

She had been very concerned, but once she had confirmed that they were—thankfully—unhurt from their fall, she had sent out her lady-in-waiting and her handmaid to acquire a much larger crib for the both of them.

As of the moment, Leona was sitting on her bed, chuckling softly at Tygra as he crawled under the light pink blanket. Bengali seemed to be more content sitting up and observing the sunlit room in his quiet and mellow manner.

She leaned forward, recognizing this as Tygra playing, and grasped the corner of the blanket. "Come out, come out wherever you are." she spoke in a sing-song, gently lifting the blanket. Tygra looked up from where he lay in 'hiding', confused but nonetheless happy and giggling. Of course, because Tygra was giggling, so was Bengali.

Leona laughed fondly as she scooped them both up and held them close. "You are my handsome little princes." She nuzzled them and they quite enthusiastically pawed her face and mane.

* * *

Leona was overjoyed when she learned she was with a cub. This could be the one, the one child she was meant to carry and nurture before entering the world.

The twins, who even at a young age were clever, but very kind, would always be her children. She would always love them, no matter what. But the cub she carried was special in a way that Tygra and Bengali had never been had the opportunity to be; the cub she carried was a sign that she _was_ capable of carrying life, that she wasn't infertile.

She was so over joyed that she cried, and Claudus was, at first, concerned that something was wrong.

They didn't tell anyone right away, just in case... something went awry as Jaga feared it might. But once it was obvious, they decided they had to tell little Tygra and quiet Bengali that they were going to be big brothers.

She came into the room, with Claudus' arm gently slung around her smaller frame, to see Tygra and Bengali both wrestling a little—both wore blue shirts and white leggings, but the blue of Bengali's shirt was of a much darker color that complimented his white fur better than it would his brother's dark orange fur. They stood there for several minutes, just watching the two, who had seemingly grown up so fast—had four years really gone by already?—as they played.

Finally, Claudus announced in a gentle voice, "We have some exciting news, Tygra, Bengali."

They both stopped wrestling, and sat up with happy joy that lit their features was contagious, and coupled with the surreal knowledge that she was with a cub, was enough to make her break out into a broad grin.

"The gods have blessed us a second time," she told them softly, cupping her swollen baby-bump.

Claudus added, "You're going to be big brothers."

They shared an excited look, and a happy little gasp.

Leona opened her arms, silently beckoning them over. Her own expression fell slightly as she realized that they—mostly Tygra—would be crushed to learn that their younger sibling would be inheriting the throne. For four years, they—again, mostly Tygra, though Bengali rarely seemed to mind or even be jealous - had been told time and time again it was their—Tygra's—birthright. That one day, Tygra would be King and wield the Sword of Omens.

Their expressions fell—they were such sensitive cubs, that her own mood easily affected theirs—and they solemnly got up and crossed the room to her. She clasped Tygra's left shoulder and Bengali's right shoulder, and crouched down. Leona knew she needed to reassure them.

"You are my handsome little pr-" she hesitated. They were still princes but, no longer _the_ princes or prince. "-darlings," she corrected herself to. The small smiles that had started to spread on their features were wiped away with sad, slightly open-mouthed expressions.

Leona felt just as crushed as them.


	2. Remembrance

_"Innocent fun,"_ Tygra had called this.

Bengali wasn't so certain about that, but he supposed it was harmless enough, and it was...well, nice. He didn't even remember how the topic had come up a few weeks ago, but it had.

Sabine, one of the Palace's many servants, but thus far—and likely to remain—the only to have occupied the space beside him, lay pressed against his side, claws idly drawing swirls in his fur. She hummed quietly, a lullaby he thought he had heard before but couldn't quite place. Even not knowing it, it made him feel melancholy.

He sighed quietly, claws trailing across the expanse of her dark-furred back.

She tilted her head up, dark brown eyes peering at him. Then, she snuggled closer to his body. "Are you going to wear black tomorrow, Prince Bengali?" she asked, her voice solemn.

Why would he-?

The anniversary of her death, the fifteenth year. Which was also Lion-O's fifteenth nameday, though the Kingdom had something of a tradition of mourning first, then celebrating.

"Of course," he answered, sighing again. "Sabine- that lullaby you were humming..."

"The one about little soldiers?" she inquired, giving a short hum of its melody. He nodded; and with the brief description of the lullaby, he recognized it. It was one Leona had sung often enough when he and Tygra had just been kittens.

Feeling a stab of grief, like a blade in the dark, he sighed again, still bobbing his head.

"What was she like? The Queen?" Sabine tentatively questioned, propping herself up on an elbow. Strands of her dark mane slipped over her shoulder, the straight, long tresses tickling his chest.

"She was..." he started, knitting his brows. By Thundera, he hadn't spoken of her in years. Not since her death. And not out of a personal desire to not, but because Claudus and Tygra hadn't wished to speak of her. It was "too painful" for either of them, and anytime he or Lion-O had pressed the subject, it had accomplished only angering the two and placing blame of her death on the young lion, unfairly. Bengali didn't share that opinion, never had. It was something that had always caused he and Tygra to fight, metaphorically dig their heels in and butt heads.

Bengali remembered being wary, at first, of the small cub. But during the many nights he had wandered the Palace, not quite understanding why their mother wasn't there and so looking for her in his confusion, he had come across the nursery. Not _their _nursery - that had still been their room until they were fifteen or sixteen and finally had it with sharing a room - but _his._

He had woken up from a particularly bad dream, he recalled, and had padded through the corridors straight to the nursery; his young logic had been that maybe she was _there,_ and Tygra and Father were just jealous...or something. It was a room he hadn't ever gone into before, but during the day he saw Jaga go inside, and Mother's ladies-in-waiting. Excellent reasoning, truly, but it seemed silly to him now. In fact, a lot of things his younger self did seemed nonsensical at best.

His first impression upon seeing Lion-O was that he looked a lot like her. And he did; his fur was the same shade as hers, far too light to have been from Father, and his eyes- something about his _eyes_ had been quintessentially _Leona_ that he still couldn't put it into words, didn't know _how_ to.

If his memory was correct, which it was, Jaga had found him—Jaga always found him—staring in the crib, babbling something to Lion-O. Probably about Mother, but he wasn't certain.

And rather than escort him back to his and Tygra's room, the old tom had shown him how to hold the newborn, then promptly left when it became clear that "he's in good paws." Claudus had flown into a panic the next morning when he went to rouse Tygra, and him, and had apparently had most of the Palace scrambling to find him.

Sabine brought him out of his reminiscing, claws dragging through his black-banded mane. "I've heard she was a very gentle soul." she told him, voice quiet.

His lips quirked slightly. "She was very compassionate."

At that, she pursed her lips, smiling a little. "I don't doubt that, Prince Bengali."

Bengali supposed that was a given; or she had been truly desperate when he and Tygra came to Thundera for a child, that she would take in two tiger cubs and claim them as her children. For a time, in his young adolescence, he had begun to believe it was the latter. Now, he thought perhaps it was both, but either way, she had came to love them more than flesh and blood. That much was undeniable when he remembered how saddened she looked that day, when she told them they were going to be big brothers - and she had started out looking so genuinely happy that she was having her own child.

With that, his lips twitched in a frown; whatever they may have been to her, and however much she loved them, they wouldn't ever have been _hers._ Not the way Lion-O was.

"My mother told me that she was very beautiful and always fair." Sabine continued, smoothing her paw over his mane, tucking white strands back.

Everyone seemed to be under the impression that Tygra and he had known her well.

But they hadn't, really; they had only been four. Too young to really know people past the feeling of liking or disliking them. She had told them stories, yes, but not of herself, and he didn't even really remember them that well. They had been eight before Claudus started telling them stories of himself, and he had shared them each many times - Bengali had his favorites, and Tygra his, and sometimes it didn't even seem like those things could have happened to _their_ father.

"She was," he responded, propping himself up. Idly, he gently pulled the silky smooth hairs if her mane through his claws. "But...I don't know what to say about her. I loved her dearly. _Love_ her." Simply because she was dead and gone didn't mean he cared any less about her. He wouldn't ever not care about her.

She blinked at him, long and dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks, with understanding and sympathy.

* * *

Bengali found Lion-O sitting in his "alternative" rooms, tinkering with a sad set to his shoulders.

For a whole seven minutes, the lion remained unaware of his presence in the doorway, leaning against the squared, stone archway. The entire time, Bengali just watched him. Lion-O wore black clothes, largely identical to his blue daily attire. His shoulders were slumped, face downcast and upset, and his turquoise eyes were half-lidded with despair.

Interestingly enough, it wasn't the first time he had found Lion-O in such a state. Usually, it was after Tygra said one thing or another that left Lion-O's ego smaller than it was before.

He could only imagine what it was this time, since Tygra had been very much glued to Claudus' side the entirety of the morning, even before Bengali awoke, and the dignitaries had come to give their condolences—_again_—and prepare for the Crown-Prince's nameday, the next day.

When Lion-O finally noticed him standing silently, it was only because he dropped one of his...Bengali didn't know what they were, and he doubted his baby brother did either, so "tinker objects" would have to suffice—which sounded so much better than "junk," as Tygra called them. He crawled under his stone-set table for it, and climbed back out triumphant, pushing himself to his feet. His eyes landed on Bengali, a fine black brow raised at him, and proceeded to drop the item a second time.

"Now that's just a waste of effort." he remarked teasingly, stepping into the room. Lion-O opened his mouth, something like an apology starting to tumble past his lips, and began to bend down for it, but Bengali waved a paw dismissively and crouched down to collect it himself, and inspected it briefly.

Its surface was smooth metal, coppery. It was circular, like a disk that competitors threw, but not nearly heavy enough.

Straightening, he held it out to his younger brother, "Here."

Bashfully, the young lion accepted it, clearing his throat. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Bengali returned, lips pulling into a fond smile. "Do you have any idea what it did? Or is supposed to do?"

Lion-O sighed heavily, shoulders slumping all over again in dejection. "No. And Tygra thinks that I'm only chasing a fairy tale."

"Of course he does," Bengali remarked, trying to keep his voice light. "He's a skeptic."

His brother's lips twisted bitterly as he set the disk down on his workbench. His claws trailed over it in a circle. "What does that make me?"

Bengali took just a heartbeat before answering, "Not Tygra." He shrugged, "Who knows, Lion-O - maybe one day you'll prove this is real and he's wrong." _and we'll go get celebratory drinks for the occasion and celebrate it annually for the rest of our lives._ It wasn't the perfect answer, he knew, a dozen more coming to mind now that he had opened his mouth, but it wasn't the worst.

Lion-O continued tracing the metal contours.

When he didn't respond after a minute, Bengali invited, "You know, there are people here who, I'm sure, would love to see their Crown-Prince."

His expression contorted cynically. "You mean people who think I killed Mother."

Ah, the true reason for the dark cloud hanging over the lion.

Bengali crossed the small distance between them to place his paw on his younger brother's shoulder. "Lion-O, you didn't kill Mother. Cats all die, and everyday a cat dies. Sometimes, it might seem like it's someone's fault, but it isn't. Death just...it happens, and it's terrible and confusing. But it's inevitable." On the inside, Bengali wanted to snort at the irony—_now _he was quoting their blacksmith and Jaga almost word for word. A weird mix of things they'd told him in the past.

The lion's expression drained of cynicism and bitterness, left only perplexed and and deeply contemplative. "I..." he sighed quietly.

"Tygra's a jackass." Bengali chuckled a little, giving Lion-O's shoulder a playful shake. "And he says things he _thinks_ he means, but doesn't deep down, _somewhere."_

Lion-O barked a laugh at that.

Bengali slid his arm around his shoulders, and guided them towards the door. Tilting his head towards his brother's, he added, "Just don't tell him _I _said that. We have a twin-confidentiality agreement, and I'm not supposed to, or even _allowed _to tell you that he has hidden depths."

"What? That's..._ridiculous." _Lion-O exclaimed.

Bengali just winked in response.


End file.
